Morning Arrives

Rays of the early morning sun filter in through cracks in the leafy roof, the brightness piercing your heavy eyelids, causing you to stir. A restless “Mmmmhhh..” escapes you as your hands rub at your face, resisting the stinging light. Absent-mindedly, your hand scratches against the spot that had spent the night ‘captured’ only to find it free from Arro’s grasp. Daring to open your pained eyes, a lazy glance to your right reveals you’re alone in the Vaporeon's bed. A quick glance about the hut confirms you seem to be alone in the hut, as well.

Not noticing anything out of order aside from your host's absence, you shrug and rise slowly, barely able to wrest yourself from the cozy sheets. Taking inventory of the hut, you find everything is as it was the previous night, save for the new hole in the floorboards. It’s discovery was quite the surprise as one misstep nearly sends you tumbling though into the calm waves below. After righting yourself, resisting the urge to curse under your breath, you examine the would be pitfall with a keen eye.

Located in the center of the hut, the opening forms a 2 by 2 foot square in the wood. The hole looks to be expertly cut from the floorboards. The missing planks, you now realize, lay in the corner beyond the dining table. Your brilliant deduction of the trapdoor is interrupted as the waves below the hatch explode, showering your form and causing you to fall back onto your rump. Looking on in astonishment, there stands Arro, soaked and grinning, amused that his ambush had succeeded. In his arms are more of those greens from the previous night along with some plump, blueberries you’ve not yet seen.

“Breakfast?”

After a quick meal of greens and the blue fruit Arro calls ‘Oran Berries’, the Vaporeon explains that the rains have become little more than a drizzle. “It would be best if we were to speak with Elder Lyra before we lose the morning air.” Arro states flatly. “She can become.. ‘Testy’ as the day wears on.” Not wanting to dally any longer, you agree and help him move the wooden table from the entryway. No longer held back by the weight of the door, the broken door swings freely once more. “You will be fixing that, correct Kale?” Recalling your promise the previous day, you sheepish nod and follow the pragmatic Pokemon into the rosy red morning sun.

Without a torrential downpour obstructing your view, you are finally able to take in Cove Crest as it was meant to be. The boardwalk extends far out in front of you leading to a massive ring of piers and walkways, huts dotting all along the path. Arro’s home seems to be one of the only structures so close to the shore. To your immediate right is the walkway leading back toward dry land, and the forests you’ve called home this last year. The Vaporeon speaks as you walk, informing you of the various residents and their roles in the village as you pass by their vacant homes. As you near the deepest portion of the boardwalk, Arro stops abruptly.

“That one would be Elder Lyra’s abode.” He says, pointing at a large, two story structure at the end of the pier. The wood looks ancient but well cared for. Curiously, the front door stands nearly 10 feet tall. Without waiting for your follow-up questions, Arro continues, “However, I’d like to make a quick stop to check in on one of our other residents, if I may!” He guides you to the hut just to the left of the Elder’s, adding coyly, “It is one of my many duties, after all~” You stand to the side as Arro gently raps a hand paw against the door. “Jona here is our resident herbalist and chef. If you thought my offerings were tasty, you’re going to love her seared shri-”

The Vaporeon isn’t able to finish his statement before a violent crash sends the wooden door flying off its hinges, just barely clipping your shoulder. You jump back instinctively, cringing from the slight stinging in your arm. Arro, you realize, isn’t so lucky as he now lays sprawled and buried beneath the shattered door, groaning in pain. You don’t have time to close the 15 or so feet between you before a massive Quagsire, his bulbous gut jiggling and pale eyes burning with purple haze, emerges from the hut.

Casting its vacant gaze to your crouched form, a grim smile pulls back his lips, drool spilling free. Just as the infected water-type is about to take a step toward you, his attention is drawn to the moaning Vaporeon still weak and dazed from the unexpected projectile. Faced with a thin, diminutive Sneasel and an incapacitated Vaporeon, the Quagsire seemed to decide Arro will make the finer meal and lumbers toward him, paying you little mind. The heavy paw falls of the infected bring him nearer to your new friend with every passing second, his intent clear.